despise your heart
by faeriesqueen
Summary: Despise your heart, Zoya. Be a perfect fighter, Zoya. Don't ever let your guard down, Zoya. But she had, and the stupid king boy in front of her had found the right breaches to get in from, and had settled down in her heart without being noticed until it was too late.


Zoya watched as the princess walked towards her king, her hair fixed over her head to reveal a perfect, thin, ivory-like neck wrapped in a necklace. Her dress moved and crackled like leaves in autumn at every step she took, and trailed behind her like it was sliding on the plain surface of a lake.  
She was beautiful, and she was hiding her sadness so well no one could've imagined that marriage was forced on her – or at least, that's what Zoya had been told. For the rest of the whole ceremony, she just couldn't draft her gaze from Nikolai, his smiling face, the scar he carried with an elegance only a real king could pull off. _Only her Nikolai could pull off._  
Everything went by in a blur; their vows, the dancing, the food. Zoya could only remember Genya's gentle hands brushing her knees every now and then as a gentle smile curled her lips, and the wine. _So much _wine.  
She'd excused herself soon enough, and left the room without looking back. Without knowing Nikolai was watching her instead of the woman he'd just sworn to love and protect.

Zoya didn't know how long she'd been tossing and turning beneath the covers, but they suddenly felt like they were trying to suffocate her. The whole room seemed too small, and she pushed her windows with more strength that was actually needed; the air hit her face immediately, caressing her hair before wrapping her in its hug, rocking her gently as she sat down on the balcony: what if someone saw her, what if the guests were still there and the music was still playing and wine was still poured from the bottle into multiple glasses. Nothing seemed to really matter but the quiet the wind brought and the stars still shining in the sky. Had it been another night, The Darkling's matter would've kept her mind busy, but she just didn't seem to care in that moment.  
_Take it all. Make it fall into darkness again. I don't care._ A pang of guilt shot her heart and she had to close her eyes, flexing her fingers above it and imagining to slow it: foolish, of course she cared. She was just – _heartbroken_, Juris' voice said in her mind with what seemed a gloating note.  
"Shut up," she muttered to herself, and the voice that came from the shadows of her room startled her.  
"I haven't said a word yet," someone said, and she immediately lifted her hands towards the sound: she was in her nightgown and sitting on the floor, but she could still throw someone across the room with a flick of her wrist, no matter how dizzy she felt.  
But Nikolai emerged from the shadows, his hands up in surrender and a grin crossing his lips as he walked towards her. He wasn't wearing his uniform anymore, but had changed into more comfortable clothes, the one he used for sleeping – Zoya knew_ she'd been the one to wish him goodnight for too long. His hair looked as if someone had passed their hands through it repeatedly, and for a moment Zoya thought it might've been the princess.  
_You might even marry me, king boy, but don't you think for a moment that I'll lay with you._ She had warned him some weeks before, a pillow held up as some sort of weapon – Zoya had liked her a little more for that, but she still felt something protest and rumble inside her chest whenever she looked at her. She knew Nikolai would've respected the princess' words, and came to the conclusion it had been his wonderful self to mess his own hair.  
"Are you going to attack me or may I join you?" he asked, arching a brow while still looking at her. She lowered her hands and frowned, bending her legs to get them close to her chest.  
"What are you doing?" she replied with another question as he carefully stepped in her direction and sat in front of her.  
"I couldn't sleep," he simply said back, crossing his legs and looking at her. "And it seems you couldn't either," he added, cocking his head to the side. Zoya scoffed and forced herself to look away from his moon-lit face.  
"I meant what are you doing _here_," she retorted, trying to harden her voice – which appeared to be more difficult than usual, and she decided to blame it on the wine. "I'm sure your wife will miss you on your first night together," she snorted then, almost rolling her eyes. Nikolai chuckled slightly before sliding close to her.  
"The wine has a strange effect on her – she danced to her bed and fell asleep before even touching it, I'm sure she'll be fine," he replied and Zoya found herself smiling slightly, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Besides, she snores, it's quite difficult to fall asleep to that melody," he added, leaning back, and Zoya couldn't help but laugh, quickly covering her mouth right after. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually laughed at something – Nikolai couldn't either, and got a little bit more drunk to that sound.  
"I'm sure you'll adjust to that too," she simply said, and Nikolai had to restrain himself from shivering: loud, witty Zoya giving him the quickest respond anyone could think of. She looked at her profile, how her hair danced on her bare shoulders, and her skin seemed to absorb the moonlight, how her eyes seemed to be now blue, now silver, then blue again, and her lips parted to get more hair in, like she was having a hard time breathing but tried not to show.  
"Can you look at me?" he asked in a low voice, afraid someone could hear them even if no one was around. "Zoya, _please_, look at me," his voice sounded almost like he was begging now, and the girl had to force her heart back into place, trying again to slow it down. If only he'd know she had been watching him for the whole time, studying his features and printing it in the back of her memory, where she would've kept it forever as he grew more distant. _Because he's going to._ She forced herself to move her head and let her eyes dance on his skin, the very sight of it almost painful.  
"You haven't received enough attention tonight?" she asked, and stiffened at the way his lips moved to form a smile – a true, amused and sincere smile.  
"_Saints_," he whispered, almost as if he was scared to scare her away. He moved closer, and she had to suppress the urge to back away – she would've ended with her shoulders against the wall, so there was no point in even trying. "You're beautiful," he murmured then, his expression twisted in what seemed a frown and his hands slightly lifted. In other circumstances, Zoya would've had the right reply to it – _of course I am, did you notice that just now?_, or _you might've had too many drinks tonight_ – but words lost all their meanings, and she just looked at him gawking, unable to absorb his statement.  
After a few moments, she got up in a single, graceful movement and walked back inside her room, pacing back and down under his gaze – she'd crossed her arms over her chest and walked with her head down, breathing slowly and shaking her head every now and then.

Nikolai got up too after a while, stretching his legs and back calmly before walking in her direction.  
"Are you going to say something?" he questioned her, and she stopped abruptly, looking up at him in disbelief.  
"Am I –" she started, her voice tiny and incredulous. Then she shook her head and kept walking. "You should go back to your room," she said then, waving one of her hands in the air. Nikolai waited for her to make a full circle around the room, then placed himself in front of her to stop her. She looked up at him, lightning in her eyes, and froze when his hands gently cupped her face, almost holding her still.  
"Don't shut me down, Zoya," he murmured to her, cocking his head to the side and meeting her ferocious gaze. Her whole body hummed with electricity, and Nikolai knew she could've sent him fly on the wall behind him, or over the balcony, or shatter every bone in his body, _but he didn't care_. He caressed her cheeks, moving just inches closer to her, feeling her lips against his own without it actually touching. Then she backed away and shook her head; she had hold of his wrists and was pulling his hands away from her, a frown twisting her pretty features.  
"_Yuyeh sesh_," she whispered as he tried to get closer again, shaking her head over and over and refusing to meet his gaze. _Despise your heart,_ that was what she'd been doing for months without even noticing – that what she'd been doing for her whole life. _Despise your heart, Zoya. Be a perfect fighter, Zoya. Don't ever let your guard down, Zoya_. But she had, and the stupid king boy in front of her had found the right breaches to get in from, and had settled down in her heart without being noticed until it was too late.  
"We're not Shu, we don't need their sayings," he replied, his hands still up, still trying to reach for her. She looked up at him without actually seeing him.  
"Your wife is," she said, backing away again, putting more distance between them. "She might not want to be with you right now, but she will change her mind because that's what her family expects from her, and you'll be there waiting like the right husband you've sworn to be," her voice was still despite the trembling of her hands, and she hid them behind her back, drafting her gaze from his face again. It was painful to even _look_ at him.  
"And what if I don't want to?" he asked firmly, making the girl in front of him scoff and shake her head.  
"It's a little too late for that, my king," she replied, looking at the suddenly interesting carpet of her room. "Go to your room," she almost ordered then, and saw his shadow reach her before him. His body was inches away from hers, his breath caressed her face and the heat of his body seemed to wrap around her like a blanket she could've rested in for the rest of her days.  
"You can't command me, like you said I am your king," he said, his voice a low murmur that felt almost like the creature had taken over again. But when she looked up, he was still her Nikolai.  
"This is _my_ room, and I am _your _general – I can," she almost challenged him, and this time didn't move when his hands clasped her face gently, tracing her features carefully and then slowly brushing her hair away, tilting her head back as he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck. She looked up at him, her breath short, her heart aching. His lips brushed against hers, almost like a caress, and she sucked a breath in when he came down on her, kissing her ferociously and desperately, longing for more contact to their bodies. And she gave in. Her hands ignored her command to be still and moved up to the boy's shoulder, holding onto it as she slightly bent her back, letting him come to her, one of his hands still behind her head, the other sliding down her spine to wrap his arm around her hips, pulling her closer. She could feel his shirt curling on her stomach, his heart thundering inside his chest and her own finding its rhythm faster and faster to the point she thought she couldn't resist any longer.

She didn't know when they'd moved, or how, but suddenly her body fell back and hit her bed, her legs bending as she took his body on top of hers, tracing the curve of his neck up to his hair in which she buried her fingers. He parted from her, and air filled her lungs painfully as she looked up, trying to meet his gaze – but he had his head tilted, his face buried in the crook of her neck where is pulsing lips were tracing pictures that would've never left her mind.  
"I won't be a king's toy to hide in the closet the moment his wife comes back," she exhaled, her fingers down on Nikolai's shoulder again where she pressed them. "I'll never be that, Nikolai," she murmured, trying to capture his attention. But as lust and desire filled his mind, Nikolai's common sense faltered and he found himself speaking before actually thinking, his lips still tasting Zoya's skin.  
"You couldn't possibly be," he whispered, his eyes half closed, his hands holding himself up. "You're not a _toy_, Zoya, you're beautiful, and powerful, and glorious," every word was accompanied by a kiss on her shivering skin, leaving them both breathless. "And you're the one I love," he said, and her whole body tensed. In the span of a moment, Nikolai found himself on the floor, and saw as she slid back on the bed, pulling her legs to her chest. She was looking at him with her eyes wide open, glimmering in the darkness of the room, and she the expression on her face seemed almost – _offended_. "Zoya –" Nikolai started as he tried to walk – _no, to crawl_ – to her, but she held up one of her hands and stopped him, her burning face hardening and her eyes moving from him.  
"Out," she simply said, her voice plain, cold like steel. _The one I love_. How long had she imagined someone would say that to her – the romantic side of her, the one she always hit with sarcasm and indifference, and that she'd learned was a burden she couldn't just shake off of her, nor fight it. _A part of her wanted to be loved deeply,_ but wasn't like that for everyone?  
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, now standing in front of her bed, his skin still flushed. She glanced at him and lifter both her hands, the wind responding to her command immediately and surrounding her.  
"I said _get out_," she said again, and her voice trembled. Nikolai cocked his head to the side and then moved towards her – the wind responded as her nerves thrilled, but he didn't stop.  
"Go ahead," he said firmly. "Hit me with your currents or lightning, strike me down if you want to, _do something_," he sounded almost as if he was challenging her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes glimmered, and she felt her heart leap in her chest. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated then. The wind immediately ceased, and Zoya fell back on her pillows, closing her eyes.

Nikolai waited for a while, then sat down next to her and waited a little more before speaking.  
"I meant that," he murmured, suddenly aware of how much they might've been risking. "I love you, Zoya, for real," he gulped and Zoya held out her hand for him to take it – he didn't hesitate.  
"I know," she sighed, suddenly tired. "But we can't," she added firmly, and Nikolai got closer to her, intertwining his fingers with hers.  
"Yes, we can – Ehri doesn't care, she and everybody seems to know already, and –" he started rambling, and Zoya propped herself up, catching his gaze and making him stop. Gently, she lifted her free hand and placed it against his cheek; he bent his head towards it, and she had to restrain herself from moving forward and kissing him again.  
"No, Nikolai. You're not going to be like your father – nor like every other king who came before him," she murmured gently, and the words were like fire leaving her throat. _Was this what Juris felt when he died?_ "Ehri might not care, but you will, you're just not thinking straight right now – and you need an heir. Wouldn't they notice if the baby doesn't resemble her mother?" she tried to smile, but the gesture felt more unnatural than usual, so she simply pressed her lips together, squeezing slightly his hand.  
"We could find a way," his voice seemed the one of a child, and Zoya's breath caught in her throat for a moment before she shook her head, moving her hand from his face.  
"No, we can't," she sounded more convincing now, but she couldn't fool herself. "Besides, I'm still your general," she affirmed. Nikolai's eyes moved to meet hers, and for a moment she felt like she could give it all up – _she could've, __but her life would've been miserable._  
"You're the one I love," he seemed to cry, and Zoya left his hand, looking away, hurt painted all over her features.  
"Stop saying that," she almost ordered, but her voice trembled and betrayed her. Nikolai shifted his position and he stood in front of her, frowning.  
"Why?" the desperation in his voice sounded like the one in Zoya's heart. She took a deep breath in and forced herself to sound convincing, sure.  
"Because you're a king and I'm a warrior, and kings and warriors don't get to love, it's a weakness, and I –" she ended up murmuring, interrupting herself, her lips barely open. Juris' voice came back to her: _to live is to grieve. You are not protecting yourself by shutting yourself off from the world. You are limiting yourself._ She didn't know if it was actually him or her conscience or if they'd merged into one thing, but of one thing she was sure: she wasn't protecting herself, but she was securing Ravka's future. "You're not my weakness, Zoya," Nikolai seemed hurt and defeated, but moved closer to her nevertheless. "You're my strength," he announced, meeting her gaze: her eyes told him what she wanted to say _really_, for the first time he seemed to know what troubled her mind. He leaned forward gently, and she gave in his kisses again.

Kissing Nikolai felt _right_. She didn't know how else to describe it. It was right the way his hands moved along her body, how his lips pressed against hers first gently, then more roughly, like he was desperate for more, and then delicate, as if he thought he'd made a wrong step. It was right the pressure of his body on hers, of her body on his; the way he touched her hair and played with it. _He_ was right, and she'd repeated _they couldn't, they shouldn't_, as her body responded differently and she started to find it difficult to think properly.  
"Just tonight," Nikolai whispered on her skin. "Just tonight I want to pretend I'm no king and this is _our_ wedding night," he mumbled without looking at her – the first time Nikolai Lantsov had refused to meet her gaze. "Please, Zoya, just –" and she'd kissed him before he could go on. Because there was nothing she wanted more. Because it felt _so_ right. Because – _Saints_, because she loved him. She loved him _so _much, and it was painful and beautiful all at once.

The next morning, Genya Safin entered her friend's room to find a scene she never imagined to be real: Zoya, sleeping peacefully with her head resting on the king's chest, blankets wrapped around them and the window still open. Genya held her breath and tip-toed towards it, closing it silently before stepping out of the room just as quietly, closing the door behind her. A smile tended her lips, and Tamar was the first to notice with a frown.  
"What is it? Is she okay?" she questioned, looking at the door. Genya moved her hands quickly, like she was annoyed by a mosquito.  
"I'm sure she's fine, she's not here, let's go," she quickly said, that knowing smile still on her lips. _She's fine,_ she repeated herself, the images of Nikolai's kindness flowing in her mind. _She's gonna be fine._


End file.
